


The Ties That Bind

by HachimansKitsune



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Consensual Kink, Domestic Discipline, F/M, Multi, Mutual Non-Con, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HachimansKitsune/pseuds/HachimansKitsune
Summary: Jareth encounters Sarah someplace unexpected and is surprised at how much she has changed, as she seeks to atone for how she wronged him. Their secrets will make or break the future of the Goblin Kingdom. Can they overcome the past to build a solid future together? MATURE CONTENT





	1. Owl

**Author’s Note:** _This was originally published on Fanfiction.net. I decided to rework it rather significantly in parts and post it over here in the ‘new and improved’ version. As always, please review._

* * *

 

"It has been too long, old friend."

Jareth looked up, his lips curling in a quiet smile as he saw the speaker walking toward him. With a brief incline of his head, he acknowledged the red-haired woman who greeted him, his words coolly amused. "A little less of the 'old' business if you don't mind. Must I remind you that you are older than I am, Siobhan?"

With a sly twinkle in her pale blue eyes, Siobhan took in the sight of him; as expected he was a vision of sensuality, his long, pale blond hair falling with seemingly careless precision to frame an angular, aristocratic face. In the black leather pants and grey silk shirt he looked many things – regal, aloof, imposing, dangerous and most importantly of all, sensual – just what her party needed to shake things up.

"Too right, Sire, but we have been friends for what seems like forever," she replied, with a wave of her hand, "And you never seem to change."

"So what brings you back Above and to the Libertine, m'Lord," Siobhan enquired, tucking her hand into his arm. The small woman peered at the crowd through violet tinted glasses, guiding him through the club with practiced ease, the mass of bodies parting to make way for them, with many bowing to her as they passed. He frowned slightly knowing that they bowed in deference to her, not him and this was not the norm in his world.

With a soft laugh Jareth shrugged. "The usual. Boredom. Really, there are only so many times that you can abuse goblins before you begin to question your sanity and when you are surrounded by goblins day in and day out, questioning your sanity is never a good idea. I had hoped at least your club might offer a more interesting and perhaps delectable diversion, if only for an evening," he said blithely, mismatched eyes of pale blue and deep brown glinting sharply with mischief. If a diversion was what he wanted, then Libertine was the place to find it he thought, coolly surveying the people they passed.

In one corner, a girl clad in a black leather corset, stockings and little else was bound to a pole, the group around her teasing her skin with feathers as she shivered and gasped. Peering to the right, he noted a leather clad young man kneeling placidly at the feet of an imposing looking woman who appeared to be showing off a plaited flogger to another man, pausing to demonstrate its use upon the back of the kneeling man. All around them club members were engaged in various activities, the sounds of both pleasure and pain throbbing through the rooms, melding with the trance music pounding from the club's speakers.

Raising an eyebrow, she paused to look at him. "Hmm. And were you intending to participate tonight, or keep your usual seat in the shadows to observe?"

In all the years he had visited her club, she had never known him to actively participate in any of the scenes that occurred; although being the good hostess she was, she always asked and had even offered up her own submissives should he be inclined to play.  "Max is lurking about feeling neglected as usual since I am busy seeing to the affairs of the club and making sure things run smoothly," she continued. "And Sophia is around somewhere, no doubt being the tease she is."

Acknowledging the offer, Jareth gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head, "Thank you, but no. I am content to continue observing."

"As you wish, Sire, although I wonder what you get from coming here merely to watch."

"What is the phrase they use Above? 'Sensual is using a feather, kinky is using the whole chicken?'" He grimaced. "If you knew what goblins did with whole chickens, you would find observing at a kink club a refreshing change of pace too," he retorted, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat.

Jareth's chuckle was interrupted when he noticed a large, but oddly quiet crowd of people, peering intently at a couple in the corner of the room. A tall man with shaggy dark hair swung the single tailed whip off to his side, before letting it fly again, targeting the young woman bound to the wall before him. The whip set forth another resounding crack, as the young woman flinched; the cracking of the whip causing several members of the audience to gasp and pull back.

In watching the scene, Jareth was transfixed by the image of the girl being whipped. Her head hung forward toward the wall, a heavy veil of dark hair falling softly to hide her face from view. The blows of the whip landed upon her exposed shoulders, the rest of her torso encased in a crisp white satin corset dress. His eyes grazed down her body, taking in the gentle curve of her ass, leading to long legs caressed by white silk stockings. Her pale skin marked with a series of angry welts, as each sting of the whip fell. Knowing full well how much the whip must hurt, he was amazed by the stoic silence of the woman, who did not utter so much as a single gasp or whimper with each strike; the only hint of her torment being the twisting sway of her bound form.

"Who is she?" he asked, unable to tear his gaze away from her.

Smiling, Siobhan nodded toward the couple. "Good eye Sire. She is known within in the club merely as 'Owl'. Only a select few know her mundane name, and even fewer know her story. She is harboring a sadness she is reluctant to name, even to those of us who know her best." Siobhan's eyes softened, "And Gods know I have tried to get the story from her."

With a slight frown Siobhan further surveyed the scene, before continuing, "He on the other hand is Derrick, someone who is prone to dangerous impulses. I warned that girl not to take up with him. Either I did not make myself clear or she is blatantly disobeying."

Jareth glanced surreptiously at Siobhan. "Disobeying? Have you claimed her as yours?"

"No, I have my hands full with my own pets. However, I was her sponsor when she joined the club. Her university roommate brought her to me for hypnosis based on some dreams she had been having. Based on what we discovered, I thought she might be able to exorcise some of her inner demons with kink, although her judgment tonight seems to be flawed." Pausing, Siobhan inclined her head as if considering the scene before them, a firm edge set to her lips as she muttered, "I might have to reconsider her membership or put her on restricted privileges if she won't listen when she is warned off certain play partners."

A steely voice cut through the room, the command punctuated by a loud crack as the whip struck home once more, this time slicing near the spine in a way that made Jareth’s hackles rise, a low growl emanating from his chest.

"Give in, bitch."

_CRACK_

"You can't keep quiet forever. You know I will win your challenge, so cry for me and let's finish this."

_CRACK_

Jareth peered through the crowd at the scene, seeing more red welts appearing on the white flesh of the girl. "What is this challenge he refers to?"

Siobhan's eyes carefully surveyed the scene before answering quietly, "Owl is lovely and spirited, too much so in some ways. Many of the dominants have tried to claim her as theirs, but she refuses all offers. Several weeks ago in a fit of pique she taunted them by laying down a challenge – whoever can make her cry out will have first right of claiming her. Now each week she arrives to the club, and several dominants try to win the challenge. This is Derrick's third attempt."

"Doesn't look like he has learned his lesson yet," Jareth drawled, both amused and disturbed by the man’s persistence. "Isn't the definition of insanity, repeating the same thing hoping for different results?"

"Hmm… While I agree with you, the problem for Owl, and for me as the hostess, is that Derrick has a short fuse and is likely to go too far since she is not playing by his perceived rules. In his world she should have submitted to him weeks ago and now be over him."

Watching intently, Jareth noticed that the woman was holding a red scarf in her right hand, gripping it tightly in her fist as the blows rained upon her shoulders faster. One particularly brutal swing exploded against the back of her neck, blossoming in a line of crimson as the delicate skin split. His pale eyes narrowed, flickering golden for a moment, riveted upon the glistening drop of blood that stained her creamy flesh. As if in slow motion, the girl shuddered deeply, her slender fingers releasing the silk scarf to let it drift to the floor.

Seeing the scarf pool on the floor, Siobhan cursed darkly and moved quickly toward the front of the crowd. In the time it took her to arrive at the front, two more blows fell on Owl's shoulders, drawing two more crimson lines on her flesh.

"Derrick, you will stop  _now_  if you ever want to enter the doors of this club again," demanded Siobhan, her blue eyes snapping violently as she jerked the whip from his hands on his next backswing, before tossing it to Max, who silently appeared at her shoulder. "She dropped the red scarf. You know the rules – all play stops at that point."

Derrick spun around to face Siobhan, a protest spilling from his lips. "She was going to cry out, if you hadn't interfered. By rights that bitch is now mine!"

"No, she isn't. You broke the club rules and her negotiated boundaries. She didn't utter a single sound, so the challenge is still good. Now get out of my sight or so help me you will be banished."

With a dark look in Owl's direction, Derrick gathered his bag and shoved his way through the crowd. Siobhan glowered at his retreating form before striding to the girl and swiftly untying the ropes that bound her to the wall. Gently she helped the girl stand up straight, all the while issuing quiet orders to Max, who quickly left the room. Siobhan lifted the girl's face upward, murmuring quietly as the girl nodded in reply. Patting the girl's cheek in a motherly fashion, Siobhan steered her away from the wall.

Guided by Siobhan, Owl lifted her hands and gingerly flipped the heavy curtain of dark hair away from her face as she stood holding her head high, her emerald eyes daring anyone else to take up the challenge. The girl silently followed Siobhan back through the crowd toward the stairs leading to the quiet lounges.

Jareth looked on in shock as the pair passed him, hidden amongst the throng of observers.

In all his dreams, this was the last person he expected to encounter on his night out.

"Sarah…" he whispered in disbelief.

Moving toward the shadows at the edge of the crowd, Jareth pondered what he had witnessed. _'It couldn't be her, could it?'_ He wondered. Curiosity winning out, he headed for the stairs, his long legs striding purposefully toward the quiet lounges on the second floor. Reaching them, he found Siobhan in the hall, speaking to a frowning Max, who glared from his Mistress to the closed door of the private lounge.

"Ah Sire, you found us,” Siobhan murmured, nodding when he joined them. “I apologize for leaving you downstairs, but I had to attend to the needs of Owl. She has done a very silly thing in baiting Derrick and I fear she'll have several scars to show for it," she said, shaking her head in frustration.

"Tell me Siobhan, is the girl’s mundane name Sarah?" Jareth demanded, his voice low and cold in the quiet of the hallway. He had to ask, but hoped the answer would be no.

Looking surprised Siobhan stepped back, eyeing him curiously. "How…how did you know?"

"Oh Gods. It is her," the Goblin King groaned, leaning against the wall and rubbing his temples against the sudden headache that pounded behind his eyes. “Of all the clubs in the Above, why must she find her way to the one frequented by our kind?”

Siobhan's shock was evident, her mouth gaped as her eyes widened. "Not  _the_  Sarah."

"The very one," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 _'Well this is a fine kettle of fish,_ ' thought Siobhan. _'Not only is this His Sarah, but she has been injured in my club. Tonight really couldn't get any worse.'_

Shaking her head, Siobhan looked at him. "What now, Your Majesty? You could use a glamour and hide your identity?"

"No, I am not prepared to do that. It is too risky if it fails, the shock might not be a welcome one for Sarah." Thinking quickly, he twirled his right hand and a black leather mask appeared over his face, a sculpted Minotaur face set beneath a pair of curling horns. "If she asks just tell her I am a trusted friend."

"Yes, Sire."

Taking a deep breath, Siobhan composed herself and entered the salon, followed by the masked Jareth. They were greeted by a visibly angry Sarah, her heels clicking on the polished wooden floor as she pacing the room. Jareth's eyes drank in her movements, violent in their purpose, yet graceful and oddly seductive despite her anger. Since arriving in the room she had plaited her thick hair, the silken braid hanging heavily over chest while she stalked the room in her frustration. She muttered darkly,  unaware that she was no longer alone, her eyes pools of flashing green fire as she cursed under her breath.

"Bloody, know-it-all, think's he's God's gift to women," she ranted. "Arrogant bastard. I should rip his balls off and …."

Sarah stopped abruptly, seeing that she was no longer alone. Her cheeks flushed hotly when she realized that not only was she no longer alone, but it wasn't just Siobhan who was looking at her while she threw her tantrum.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know we'd have more company," she said, her words clipped and cold, as she glowered at the masked stranger.

Siobhan patted Sarah's arm and steered her toward the footstool near an overstuffed leather chair. "It is okay dear. This is an old friend of mine who came to visit the club tonight. I couldn't leave him in the crowd while I attended to you, right? What kind of hostess would I be if I did that?"

Sarah eyed the man suspiciously. He was dressed like many other men at the club -- shades of black and grey, leather and silk, the usual, yet there was something unusual about him that she couldn't quite place. _'Probably just the fact he is wearing a mask,'_ she decided.

"Nice mask," she snapped, returning to her pacing as she cursed Derrick's person, his parentage and future child-bearing abilities.

Jareth watched, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, his eyes darkening while following her movements. She was so graceful, despite her clearly agitated state. The years had been kind to her and she had blossomed into a beautiful woman, so similar to the spirited girl he had last seen, if not even more spirited, judging from the string of colorful epithets flowing from her cranberry colored lips.

"I prefer to remain invisible when at the club," he replied, his quiet voice soothing and vaguely familiar, to Sarah. "The mask helps me hide in the shadows."

Nodding silently, Sarah sunk down to perch on the footstool, as if suddenly exhausted, while Jareth settled himself on the sofa opposite her.

Siobhan broke the strange silence, when Max returned and handed her a first aid kit. "Well, you certainly know how to liven things up on a slow club night, Sarah," she said as she gently began to clean the wounds on Sarah's shoulders and neck.

"That's not fair!" protested Sarah, frowning at the masked man when he chuckled at her claim. "Well it isn't," she muttered, her claim somehow losing steam under the masked man's quiet gaze. Hissing as the alcohol hit the raw wounds, Sarah winced. "I hadn't planned on playing tonight especially after you warned me off Derrick last week. He was the last person I intended to get involved with."

"Then why did you?" asked Siobhan with an exasperated sigh. "Honestly Sarah. Without claiming you myself, I can't protect you if you won't listen."

Turning her back to the masked stranger, Sarah spun to face Siobhan, grasping the older woman's hands in her own. "I'm sorry Siobhan. It wasn't your fault, it was mine and I take full responsibility for being a stupid little twit."

Jareth listened intently. _'Sarah taking responsibility for her actions? My, my, my….little Sarah has grown up,'_ he noted with surprise.

Frowning, Sarah turned around offering her back for Siobhan to finish cleaning. "He baited me. He told me it wasn't fair that I wouldn't give him another chance. So I told him that it all depended on his basis of comparison and his was obviously flawed," she said, a cold smirk teasing her lips as she repeated the insult used against Derrick. "Funnily enough, he didn't like that comment. He called me a coward and a prick tease and well….I couldn't let anyone think that of me so I gave in."

Jareth coughed softly as she related her tale, trying to smother an outward chuckle at the way in which she used words he had once used on her, against someone else.

Seeing the smile playing over the lips of the masked man, Sarah grumbled, jerking her head in his direction. "And I don't know why your friend here is looking so superior and arrogant. It isn't as if he would have any better luck with the challenge than anyone else around here."

"Sarah!" Siobhan admonished, watching Jareth carefully for any sign of anger toward the girl. "Bite your tongue before you find yourself in more trouble than even  _you_  can handle."

Throwing his head back, the masked stranger laughed, the rich sound reaching into Sarah's chest and making her heart race. Biting her lip she looked down at the floor and blushed, before lifting her face defiantly to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me for being rude. It has just…" she sighed. "Well it has been a trying evening."

He surveyed her quietly for a moment, pleased to see that she had not lost her inner fire as she matured, although clearly her ability to control impulsive statements still needed work. "I'll forgive you, if you would care to elaborate more on this challenge that you have laid before the dominants of this club."

Looking sheepish, Sarah peered again at the floor, then over her shoulder at Siobhan.

"Don't look at me Sarah. You initiated this, now it is yours to finish. You are on your own with this one," Siobhan laughed. "Besides, your shoulders are cleaned up now so I must duck downstairs to check on the rest of the party. I'll be back in a few minutes." Sneaking a glance at Jareth's amused expression and Sarah's defiant gaze she added, "You two play nice while I'm gone."

Not liking the feeling of submissiveness she felt by remaining on the footstool while this strange man lounged on the couch, Sarah moved to the leather chair when Siobhan left the room. Flinching as her sore shoulders made contact with the leather, she thought better of it and slid back to the footstool with a disgruntled frown.

"I am still waiting," he hinted, his arrogant smile irritating Sarah further.

Sarah fought the desire not to look at him. There was just something about him that she couldn't place and the feeling unnerved her. Even slouched on the leather sofa, his very air held a hint of power, intoxicating and intimidating at the same time, making her very aware of how much skin was exposed in her corset dress.

Steeling her courage she looked up, meeting his gaze and trying desperately to appear indifferent. "Not that it is really any of your business since you aren't a club regular, but the challenge is quite simple. Whoever can make me cry out, in any way, has first right to claim me."

"And by claim you mean…?"

"Everything. All of me."

Jareth leaned his head back as he considered this. What was Sarah thinking that she would give of herself in this way. It didn't make sense for the independent young woman he knew, to give herself away in a challenge. Hell, he offered her very  dreams and she turned him down flat. With a slight frown he watched her face, attempting to see any hint of emotion in story. "All of you? You mean sex then," he enquired, the tone of his voice dropping.

The clipped accent stirred something deep in pit of Sarah's stomach, making her bottom lip tremble. With a slight shiver, Sarah tore her eyes from his, turning toward the mirror on the wall. "Hmmm. That is the rub. For most of the guys around here, that is the most important part of things."

"And it isn't for you," Jareth questioned quietly, his eyes softening as he watched her reaction.

"No. It isn't about sex. It is about power, which is why none of the guys will win." With a grimace of distaste she paused. "Most of them see sex as the end goal, they don't see the power needed behind it, nor do they recognize the power inherent in the gift I have to offer."

Jareth flinched inwardly as a remembered offer came to mind.  _'This is not a gift for an ordinary girl, who takes care of a screaming baby…do you want it?'_

"What gift, Sarah?"

She faced him, drawing herself up straight, she looked at him as if measuring whether he was worth of an answer to this particular question. While his arrogant smile grated on her nerves, there was something reassuring about his presence, he looked like he belonged anywhere and nowhere at the same time. The soothing tones of his voice mesmerized her, like a salve for her wounded psyche.

"How are you at reading people? I mean both what they say and what they think?" she asked.

"I am reasonably accurate," he replied, intrigued by her question.

"Then look at me carefully. Based on what I have told you and you have witnessed tonight, what do you think the gift I offer is?"

Surveying her silently he contemplated her words. She was definitely stronger than he remembered and more comfortable in her skin, as evidenced by the effortless way she moved in the white satin corset dress that caressed the curves she had acquired over the years. Thinking over what he had seen of her and her words, a flicker of understanding lit up his eyes as he smiled at her.

"Ah, you are a traditionalist. White. How quaint and yet, it doesn't surprise me about you," he murmured softly.

Nodding she graced him with the first genuine smile she had given him since they had met, oddly grateful that he understood the meaning of her gift. The sight of her openly smiling at him after so many years made his pulse quicken, throbbing in his throat.

"Yes, exactly. Most of my friends gave up their virginity early and easily. I had planned to, I mean, everyone else was so it seemed the 'done thing'. But, it wasn't that easy." She paused to see how he was taking her response, seeing his look of interest she continued. "I actually tried. Got a date lined up with someone I thought would be good for the purpose of it all…and then I couldn't go through with it. I mean he was nice enough, but it just didn't feel right. He was all thumbs, greedily groping me, there was no caring, no feeling, not even a hint of romance or love."

"I tried again once Siobhan introduced me to the club. That is part of why Derrick is so pissed at me, I did tease him a bit much," she admitted to the masked stranger, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Mind you, I didn't mean to tease him. I had thought I could go through with it. I mean, if you can't have romance or love, why not pleasure and pain, right?"

His cool eyes narrowed intently as he listened, marveling at just how much the timid yet determined teen he once knew had changed. Somehow it didn't seem to surprise him that she had come to grasp the power of pleasure and pain so early in her young life. An imperceptible tremor gripped his heart at the thought of seeing her fully experience them, until they melded into one overwhelming feeling. Shaking off the feeling of desire that rushed over him, he pursed his lips, watching her.

She looked up at him, as if waiting for some sign of understanding, relaxing once more as he nodded in acknowledgment. "But in the end, I couldn't do it. It still wasn't right. It felt like something was missing, then I realized it wasn't a thing, it was the person." Slumping forward, Sarah rubbed her eyes with weary fingers, "It sucks, feeling as if you are in love with a phantom that will never know what you are saving for him. Y'know?"

Jareth's eyes closed as a wave of guilt swept over him, his fingers gripping the arm of the sofa in an effort to keep himself from sweeping her into his arms, and claiming the gift that was rightfully his, by her own admission.

Shaking herself slightly, she peered up at him again and smiled weakly, "I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. You must find me terribly boring. But, aside from Siobhan, you are the first person who ever asked." Blushing she shut her eyes, turning away from him. "At least you understand about the gift and why it was important to put forth a challenge to try to discourage those who wanted to claim me. It isn't as easy as a mere claim of possession, the person who makes that claim has to really understand what it is they are claiming and what it means. If not then…I'll be lost forever..." she said, whispering, "which is a lot longer than I've been told if it is with the wrong person or wrong motive."

A sinister voice from the hall interrupted her reverie. "It doesn't matter now, by rights you are mine to claim," Derrick snarled, sauntering into the room.

Spinning to face him, Sarah rose from the footstool. He advanced on her forcing her to step back. Jareth watched silently as she drew herself up and purposely stepped toward Derrick, reaching out and punctuating her statement with sharp pokes of her fingers.

"You. Have no. Power. Over me. And trust me when I say that stronger and more powerful men than _you_ have tried to make that claim," came her angry retort. "So give up."

Jareth's eyes widened at her statement, a malicious smile edging over his sharp features as he watched the other man's reaction.

"It is an impossible challenge,” Derrick grumbled, his fist tightening at his side.

"No it isn't. It just requires someone to take the time to try to understand what it is I am searching for – and pain for the sake of pain isn't it. I am not a masochist, you narrow-minded, arrogant asshat."

Jareth bit his lip to keep from laughing as he watched Sarah call Derick out in no uncertain terms.

"Then why the hell are you here, Sarah?" Derrick spat.

Her bravado failed briefly and her voice faltered. Turning her back on Derick, she closed her eyes, raising her face toward the ceiling. A single tear slid slowly down her cheek before she opened glistening eyes and looked at the soothing countenance of the masked man, with eyes that seemed to peer through him while speaking directly to his heart.

"Atonement."

"What?" Derrick asked, laughing. "Don't be absurd."

"As I said before, you will never understand, Derrick. I want, need, crave atonement and forgiveness for past wrongs, from the one person who does have power over me." With a sad sigh she whispered so softly that Derrick didn't hear, "or at least they would if they knew how I felt."

Jareth looked at her softly, having heard her whispered comment.

"Look you insolent bitch, I've had about enough of this. You will submit to me or so help me…" Derick reached out and grabbed Sarah by the hair, yanking her back toward him.

In one swift movement Jareth was up and across the room, grabbing Derick's wrist he twisted it sharply causing him to release Sarah, who collapsed on the floor. Growling, Jareth get it a further twist, nowing that if he twisted just a fraction more, it would snap. With a sharp thud, Jareth lifted Derrick and pinned him to the wall, fixing him with a steely glare he snarled menacingly, "Do  _not_  lay a hand on her. She is  _not_  yours and it is not seemly to even consider harming one who does not belong to you. I suggest you leave and do not come back – ever."

The threat of the last word hung heavily over the room, before Jareth dropped Derick, watching him coldly as he slid to the floor, before returning to his seat on the sofa.

From her vantage point on the floor Sarah shivered. Something about the stranger unnerved her, he seemed so familiar almost reminding her of….but no, it couldn't be him.

"You have no claim to the little whore, so what do you care?" shouted Derrick. "You can't talk to me like that anyway."

"But I can," Siobhan interjected as she returned. "Derrick, I have warned you about your behavior previously. Since you refuse to listen, I am banishing you for the next six months. Am I understood?"

Derrick looked at her, face red with anger he advanced on Siobhan, until the hand of the large man behind her stopped him. Looking up at the man, Derrick backed down.

"Clear your gear out of your locker and leave. Max will see you out."

Max slipped through the door, gripping Derrick’s arm firmly and guiding him out of the room.

Smiling up at the large man, Siobhan motioned toward another chair, "Thank you for your help Rastas."

The large man smiled back, merry brown eyes sparkling from his bearded face as he took the offered chair, pulling Sarah back onto the footstool with a big hug. "I couldn't leave tonight without checking on my favorite girl," he said, looking at Sarah. "How is the tattoo healing, Sarah?"

Turning her back toward Rastas she replied with a playful smirk, "Check for yourself."

Rastas leaned toward Sarah and began to loosen the laces on the back of her corset, while Siobhan stood over his shoulder and motioned for Jareth to join them peering at the creamy skin of Sarah's back as it was revealed. What Jareth saw made his heart pound and his breath catch in his throat. Etched finely in ink above her left hip was the image of a white owl, carrying a crystal in its talons. She had willingly marked herself with his image.

"You do fine work Rastas, the design is lovely," Sarah said softly, her voice quivering with emotion. "The image is very special to me. Thank you."

Rastas smiled and re-laced Sarah's corset, kissing her cheek as he finished and stood. "You were lovely to work with my dear. And I am happy that I am the only one of the club members who has come close to winning your challenge," he said with a wink. "Especially knowing that it must drive Derrick out of his mind."

Jareth looked at Sarah and Rastas, raising an eyebrow in question. Seeing his look, Sarah patted Rastas' hand.

"Rastas came close to winning, because he made me cry. But it wasn't tears of pain, it was tears of joy because he translated what I wanted for the tattoo into reality and for that I am grateful."

Beaming at her, Rastas winked. "Any time dear one, but for now I must be off. Continue cleaning the tattoo as instructed and contact me immediately if it becomes red and sore."

"Yes Sir."

Siobhan settled back into her chair, nodding as Max returned to silently pour brandy for Jareth and herself. Sarah was used to the routine and didn't think twice about not being offered a drink.

"That, dear girl, is the first time I have heard you address anyone as Sir. Why?" questioned Siobhan, eying the girl with interest.

Shrugging Sarah gingering touched her welted shoulders while considering her response. "Basically, he is kind and came the closest to winning the challenge, without ever actually wanting to win it."

"And no, before you ask Siobhan, he isn't the one I seek."

"But Sarah, if you know who it is you are looking for why don't you tell him?"

Sarah's jade eyes flickered as Jareth watched her. For a brief moment they filled with sadness, his suspicion confirmed as they closed, silent tears slipping over ivory cheeks -- the second set of tears he had seen from her in as many hours. Seeing the firey Sarah cry, he felt a felt a pang of emotion course through him, puzzling him. Other runners had cried in front of him, yet he had never reacted like this. Why did this one girl affect him so?

"I can't tell him," Sarah whispered, leaning her head against Siobhan's knee, seeking comfort. "I messed up terribly and I can't go back. Even if I had the courage to beg his forgiveness, I don't even know how to reach him." A soft moan escaped her lips as she buried her face against Siobhan, her voice cracking, "He wouldn't want me after that, how could he? I was so cruel, but I didn't understand what I was doing."

Gently, Siobhan reached out to comfort the crying woman in front of her. "Sarah," she soothed. "What could you possibly have done that was so terrible? Surely, he would understand," she asked, peering at Jareth over the top of the distraught girls head.

"He only offered me everything. My very dreams. And I ran…rejected him outright," the girl sighed. Sarah bit her lip, worrying it with her teeth before peeking up at Siobhan through a veil of tears. "No, I didn't just run, I bolted like a terrified deer. He made me feel things I had never known and that scared me terribly. I didn't even want what he offered, I only…I only… _wanted him_ ," she whispered. "And in the end, I as good as killed him, I think. I don't even know, only that he is gone from my life as if he never existed."

Rubbing the tears from her eyes with shaking hands, Sarah blinked stoically at the ceiling before fixing the masked stranger with a piercing glare, then looking back to Siobhan. "But I was young and stupid – hell, I was only 15 so in a way it was his fault too. What the hell was he thinking setting me up like that?" Sarah sniffed and smiled at Siobhan, gently patting the older woman's hand. "After all, what is said is said and I can't reorder time to fix things, so…" she shrugged and let the sentence die unfinished.

Jareth listened to Sarah's explanation, hiding his surprise at her confession. Could it be true? Was she admitting she was wrong and that she felt something for him. His surprise was short-lived, replaced by a pang of guilt as she used his own words to sadly describe her feelings.

"Look, I need to head out," Sarah said, hugging the older woman before standing. Turning gracefully she held her hand out to the masked man on the sofa, "It was a pleasure to meet you, perhaps next time we meet you'll grace me with the knowledge of your name," she teased. "I apologize again if I offended you in anyway. Someday I'll learn to control my cruel tongue."

A soft chuckle erupted from Jareth's throat as he shook her hand. He saw her shiver slightly when he gripped her hand, lips parting in surprise as he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to it, never taking his eyes from hers. "But it is such a lovely tongue, surely a tongue lashing from one so beautiful would not be so painful."

Raising an eyebrow, Sarah fixed him with a defiant gaze before pulling her hand from his with a mischievous smile, "While my tongue can be both soft and sharp, you, I think, are likely only to experience the sharp side if you continue to make comments like that." Squaring her shoulders she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

"Oh Sarah, are you going to participate in the submissive auction next Friday night?" Siobhan asked. "Remember, the money is for charity and I know many who would happily bid on you."

Closing her eyes, Sarah rubbed her temples to quell the feeling of unease that washed over her.

"Don't worry," Siobhan continued, thinking Sarah was concerned about Derrick and others like him, "if someone unworthy bids on you, I'll just override the bid. I'll keep you safe."

"Sure," Sarah sighed and nodded. "I'll be here. Although why I bother returning, I don't know. I'm not going to find what I'm looking for here."

"Do you have a costume. It is a masked auction."

"Honestly? Like they wouldn't know it is me already? But yes, I have a costume in mind." Pausing to glare at the masked man in the corner. "Well, at least you are prepared already – just a week early," she teased on her way out the door.

"Cheeky wench," was Jareth's muttered reply as he watched the lithe form glide out of the room. Looking at Siobhan he smiled slyly. "I think I shall have to attend the auction as well."

 


	2. The Auction

Ch. 2

"You have  _got_  to be kidding, Siobhan," Sarah protested, trying not to whine but sure she was failing in the attempt.

Fixing Sarah with a frown that made her frustration painfully evident, Siobhan shoved a fresh peach in Sarah's hand, lifting the girl's arm upward slightly, so that the peach was held in the girl's upturned hand, as if offering it to an unseen person. "There, hold that position and do not move."

"But why must I hold this stupid peach?" Sarah insisted, dropping her arm until Siobhan slapped her ass sharply. Grumbling, she raised her arm once more.

With a huff Siobhan paused, making final adjustments to Sarah's positioning and costume. The girl caused quite a stir when she arrived with the rest of the submissives to be auctioned. Most wore the usual costumes for such an event, French maid dresses, Grecian style dresses, and so on, but not Sarah, her costume out did them all and Siobhan was doing her best to position the girl on the auction pedestal in such a way so as to show her off to the greatest advantage.

Sarah had stalked into the club that night, wearing a white leather skirt that hugged every curve. A loose white silk halter top glided over her shapely breasts, held up by a diamanté chain around her neck and a matching strap across her lower back, leaving almost the entirety of her back bare. The most dramatic part of the outfit was the short capelet draped over the girl's shoulders. It had taken Sarah most of the week to make it, meticulously covering the white velvet capelet with various types of white feathers, before hand-sewing crystalline beads amid the feathers. When she moved, it looked as if the feathers were flecked with ice crystals and the effect was stunning. Even more so was the standing collar of the cape, which rose toward her jawline, before gracefully arcing back. Vaguely Elizabethan, the standing collar framed her face, a mass of feathers, alternating with spokes of crystalline beads. In a word – ethereal.

Adjusting the collar of Sarah's cape so that it did not catch the feathers extending from her mask, Siobhan smiled and nodded. "Perfect."

"Siobhan, you aren't answering the question," Sarah pointed out, longing to throw the peach across the room. "What is the purpose of the peach?"

"Sarah, I'll remind you your place for tonight – submissive, remember? It is not your place to demand answers of me or anyone else," Siobhan scolded. "Not that it is any business of yours, but we had an unexpected donation to the charity fund earlier today. The benefactor made a single bid for tonight, and offered an additional two grand if each of those up for auction would incorporate peaches into their tableau in some way. So really, I don't care if you can't stand the sight, smell or taste of peaches, you  _will_ hold that peach until the bidding is complete."

With a sly smirk Siobhan leaned close to Sarah once more, "And if you complain about the bloody peach once more, I won't make you hold it….I'll gag you with it."

Sarah nodded quietly, blushing. The smell of peaches was enough to turn her stomach, but tasting them was a punishment worse than any she could think of.

Stepping away from the pedestal Sarah was posed upon, Siobhan scanned the auction room. Seven submissives from the club had put themselves up for auction, including her own Max, who was kneeling upon another pedestal, a basket of peaches nestled invitingly between his open knees. Given the magical aura of Sarah's costume, Siobhan had positioned her on the only white pedestal, which happened to be higher than any other and set in the center of the room.

With quick steps, Siobhan moved from one pedestal to the next, checking the contracts and bidding folders attached to each, making sure that each submissive had filled out their negotiation lists fully – she didn't want to take any chances that one of them got in over their heads. Pleased that everything was ready she addressed the posing submissives.

"I'll be opening the doors momentarily. Remember this is a silent auction, not only is there no yelling of prices, but you are to remain silent as well. Speak only when asked a direct question." Pausing, Siobhan's eyes scanned the group one last time, "For the next hour, you are merely objects d'arte. The bidding will run until 9:45 at which time I'll announce the winning bids and owners. If any of you want out, now is the time to leave."

Siobhan waited a moment, watching for any look of doubt, and smiling when not one of those up for auction moved, then she threw open the French doors of the salon and admitted the gathered bidders.

Closing her eyes briefly, Sarah took a deep breath trying to ease her nerves. She hadn't wanted to participate in the auction, but Siobhan had been quite insistent and Sarah hated disappointing her.

The auction was anything but silent. As bidders moved from one pedestal to the next, they talked amongst themselves, commenting on the 'items' up for auction and discussing what they would do if they won. Some bidders would speak to those up for auction, asking them questions before writing their bids down on the folders attached to each pedestal.

Sarah watched the bidding quietly, it was all she could do given the circumstances. Bidders drifted toward the white pedestal in the center of the room in singles and pairs, pausing to skim over the contract laying next to Sarah's heeled boots. Unlike some of the others, her auction contract was short, consisting only of her customary challenge. Whoever had the highest bid on her would earn two chances to win her challenge.

No one spoke to her and that was fine with her, since she wasn't inclined toward having to answer inane questions anyway. She thought she might be asked a question when James, a particularly arrogant dominant moved close to. She shivered when he merely slid his hand up under her skirt to caress her intimately, obviously not noticing the mismatched eyes watching him from just outside the door.

With a cruel smirk, James pinched the tender flesh of the inside of Sarah's thigh sharply, making her flinch and hiss at him, "Hands off!"

He peered up at her with dark eyes and clucked his tongue at her. "Bad form, little Owlette. Speaking without permission on the auction block is a punishable offense, one I will take out of your luscious hide should I win."

"Touching the merchandise is also a punishable offense," came the cold reply, as Jareth entered the room, fixing James with a piercing stare.

Ignoring the comment of the masked man, James moved to Sarah's bidding folder, casually flipping it open. He scanned the bid sheet before frowning and replacing the folder. "She isn't worth it anyway," he muttered, then turned and stomped from the room.

The masked man watched as James retreated. "My, my, little Sarah," he chuckled looking up at Sarah's faintly blushing face, "Still making friends, I see."

Jareth stood back from the pedestal to study her. Just as Siobhan had hinted when he arrived, her costume was indeed stunning. The feathers of cape fluttered softly on an unseen breeze, while the crystals scattered over her shoulders caught the light, bending it into miniature rainbows that flickered in the low-light of the room. She looked like an angel.

He moved close to the pedestal and she shivered imperceptibly as his gaze washed over her, his eyes seeming to peer into her very soul. With a gloved hand, he reached out and plucked the peach from her outstretched hand. Meeting her eyes, he brought the fruit to his lips, pausing before sinking his teeth sharply into the soft flesh. Sarah fought to bite back a moan at the wet sound made as his teeth pierced the peach, but was unable to stop herself, when his tongue darted out to lick drops of nectar from his lips.

Smiling wickedly, he replaced the peach in her hand, the clear bite mark facing toward her own lips.

"Hmm…such luscious fruit you offer, my dear," he drawled slowly, accenting each syllable.

Sarah blushed in silent reply, trembling as he moved examine her bidding sheet.

All evening long people had come up to her, reviewing the contract and then looking at her bidding sheet, but none had placed a bid. As time went on, she began to fear that no one would bid on her, the embarrassment of such an outcome gradually threatening to choke her as her throat tightened to fight back the tears. She hoped fervently that this masked stranger might take pity on her and at least offer a simple bid – the bidding only started at $25 for each of those who were on the block.

She watched him look again at her, before replacing the bidding folder without offering a bid and she felt for a moment her heart might break.

As the hour had worn on, Sarah's arms and legs began to feel like lead and she had to fight the urge to shake. Seeing him replace the bidding folder without making a bid, she lost the fight, her knees wobbling, threatening to give out on her. Sarah gasped when he reached out, steadying her elbow with a gloved hand.

"Steady, Sarah. The bidding is almost finished. Relax your knees and don't lock them, it will be easier for you to stay still then," he crooned soothingly.

Nodding silently, she did as instructed and found that she could quell the tremors in her legs. But relaxing her knees did nothing to stop the panic building inside her. She had seen bids being offered for all of the others. How could she face Siobhan being the only one not to earn even a pittance of a bid?

Sarah bit back a sob as the masked man turned his back on her and exited the salon, he had been her last hope.

At precisely 9:45 Siobhan returned to the salon, pulling the French doors closed behind her. "Okay everyone, time to shift and stretch, then resume your poses before we announce the winners," she said, swiftly moving around the room to collect the bid folders.

When she got to Sarah's pedestal, Sarah sighed. "Don't bother picking up the folder Siobhan. No one bid on me. I'm so sorry. May I leave now, before you announce winners?Please don't make me stay," she pleaded, her emerald eyes shining with tears that threatened to spill over.

Raising an eyebrow, Siobhan merely peeked inside the folder by Sarah's feet before adding it to the pile of others, completely ignoring the plea. Sarah sighed and tried to gather her courage for what was sure to be a humiliating experience. While waiting for the torture to begin, she gingerly stretched her legs and back, waving silently at Max, who smiled in response.

As Siobhan returned to the French doors preparing to open them, Sarah resumed her pose, complete with the cursed peach. She squared her shoulders and put on her best emotionless mask when Siobhan opened the doors and the bidders returned to the room.

Siobhan stepped to the podium upon the stage that ran along one wall of the room. Smiling at the room, she waited for the talking to still before addressing the group. "We've had an excellent showing for this year's auction and I think it has much to do with the wonderful merchandise on offer."

Sarah's despair at having no bids was overwhelming her and she was having a terrible time resisting the urge to flee the room, but to do anything other than remain in position would surely result in worse humiliation than having the others find out she was unwanted.

Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she watched Siobhan announce the winning bidders. With each new announcement, the bidder would approach the submissive they won, clipping a leash to the collar each wore. Sarah tried desperately to swallow the lump in her throat as the sixth submissive and winning bidder were announced, leaving her alone, standing on a pedestal, in full view of everyone. It was all over, everyone would know her shame in just a few moments.

Shutting her eyes tightly, she tried to relax her face, praying she looked more relaxed than she felt, as Siobhan spoke again.

"The last submissive on bid for the night, drew the least number of bids," Siobhan announced, causing Sarah to whimper softly, fervently hoping no one heard her. "But," Siobhan continued, "This submissive earned the highest auction bid ever recorded at Club Libertine - $5000, beating the previous club record by over $3000."

Gesturing toward Sarah, Siobhan held out the last leash, "The winning bid on Owl goes to, Hades."

Sarah trembled. Someone had bid on her, and not only placed a bid, but a high bid that effectively shut out all other bidders. Why would anyone do that?

She didn't recognize the pseudonym that Siobhan had announced. Everyone used one at the club, in order to protect their mundane lives. She was sure she had met everyone. Hades. Lord of the Underworld. She had never met anyone who used that as a name – here or anywhere else.

Sarah was so busy trying to figure out who Hades was, that she didn't notice the figure moving through the crowd toward her. It was only when he held out a gloved hand to help her down from the pedestal that she noticed the winning bidder – Siobhan's friend in the mask.

Helping her down from her position, the masked man gently plucked the peach from her hand, taking another bite before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to hers, smiling mischievously as she gasped softly. Straightening up, he clipped the leash to the ring hanging on the front of the collar that encircled her slender neck, one word rumbling from his throat as he turned and made his way out of the room – "Come."

Sarah could no longer hear the din that had erupted in the room after Siobhan's announcement regarding the record bid, the tone of his command set her blood churning so that all she could hear was the pulsing of her heartbeat in her ears. With her head held high, she followed him from the room, eyes fixed upon the blonde hair teasing the back of his collar as he led her out.

The enormity of what had just happened didn't hit her until they left the salon. She had willingly put herself up for auction and now was at the mercy of the winning bidder, someone she did not know and had never played with. Sure, she had played with many others, but this man was an unknown factor. A wave of abject terror washed over her and she had to force herself to breathe slowly, reminding herself that he was an old friend of Siobhan's. Not only that, but Siobhan had promised that she would protect Sarah and make sure she was safe. Even so, she had no idea what to expect from this man.

The terror threatened to overtake her again as they walked toward the play areas. She fought the urge to pull away and run, until they reached the stairs. Blinking, she felt her nerves settle somewhat when she realized that playing was not on his mind, as no one was allowed to play in the upstairs lounges.

Hades led her into the lounge they had inhabited the previous week. Stopping in front of the sofa, he looked at her with penetrating eyes, then gave a slight nod toward the footstool. Without registering the command fully, Sarah immediately sat on the stool, her back held straight as her legs curled gracefully to the side, her hands coming to rest in her lap. Instinctively Sarah averted her gaze to the floor, feeling him move away from her to sit on the sofa. Although she couldn't see him, she could feel his gaze moving over her as if caressing every inch of her. In all her time at the club, she couldn't remember feeling so completely vulnerable. Until this point, she had always retained control, but she had willingly given this man power over her.

"Look at me, Sarah," he instructed, his voice low, but surprisingly firm.

She wanted to, but at the same time was afraid what she might see if she did.

"That was  _not_  a request," he added, a hint of warning edging his words.

Sarah trembled, but didn't move. Jareth watched her intently as her mouth opened and closed several times. Eventually she managed to whisper, "I'm afraid."

Puzzled, Jareth sat back, looking at her. Where was the fire she exhibited last week? Leaning toward her again, he caressed her cheek softly with gloved fingertips, before cupping her chin and turning her face toward him. Brushing his lips across her forehead he murmured, "You only have to fear me if you disobey me, Sarah. Do you intend to disobey me?"

She shook her head, unable to take her eyes from his throat as he kissed her forehead.

Settling back on the sofa, he smiled at her. "Then you have nothing to fear from me."

"Except the unknown," she retorted, then gasped at her boldness, covering her mouth with a hand as she blushed, stammering, "I'm so sorry…I didn't mean…."

She was shocked when he threw back his head and laughed, the deep tone ringing in her ears. "Ahh, there is the fire I was counting on," he chuckled, relaxing into the leather of the sofa. "Now tell me, why were you afraid to look at me. Don't you trust me, Precious?"

Sarah looked at him, trying to figure out how to answer. "Honestly?" she enquired.

"Always answer honestly Sarah, no matter what I ask of you. I'll know if you lie to me and then there will be consequences."

Sarah nodded silently, looking at the floor once more until he cleared his throat in warning, forcing her to drag her eyes back to his. "I don't know why I was afraid. You aren't like anyone I've met here before and since you aren't a club regular, I don't understand why you would want to take up my challenge, especially since you know what is at stake."

The masked man looked at her thoughtfully before speaking, his voice low, "Perhaps I am more aware of what is at stake than you think."

Before Sarah could truly process this idea, Siobhan entered the lounge carrying the bidding folder and contract. "I thought I would find you two up here," she said. "There are some formalities to dispense with." Siobhan handed the contract to Jareth with a pen.

Accepting the papers and pen, Jareth shook his head, causing Sarah to gasp. Had he changed his mind? She couldn't see how her being afraid to look at him would result in this.

"I would like to propose a change to the contract. The contract I bid upon stipulated that I had two chances to win the challenge and I want to up the stakes."

"Up the stakes?" Sarah stammered, he eyes widening at the determined look in his eyes.

The masked man looked at Sarah, a mysterious smile playing about his lips. "Yes. If I win your challenge with the first chance, you will remain mine for the rest of the weekend. I believe it is a holiday weekend, so you will stay with me until 6pm Monday night."

Sarah looked up in shock, before turning to look at Siobhan who merely shrugged. “There are no rules against such a change if both parties are willing.

"And if you lose," Sarah managed to ask, nibbling her lower lip thoughtfully.

"If I lose, I will pay you the same amount that I bid on you – in cash."

Sarah shook her head, trying to grasp what he was saying. As a college student, $5000 would be enough to cover her room and board for the next two semesters. Or she could use the money to replace her aging computer, or for that matter, to buy a new (to her) car. Given the likelihood of him winning the challenge, Sarah felt compelled to accept his offer. She raised her face to look at him, jade eyes snapping merrily at the wager. "I accept."

Sarah watched as the masked man amended the contract and signed it, before passing it to her. She knew it was just a formality, not legal in any court, but after reading it to make sure it stated exactly what she had agreed to, she added her signature beneath his, handing the signed contract back to Siobhan for safe-keeping.

Taking the forms, Siobhan peered inquisitively at Jareth, hoping he knew what he was doing and for that matter, hoping that Sarah didn't regret her impulse to accept the stakes. Without a word, she left the salon.

Jareth leaned back against the sofa again, closing his eyes as he considered things. He knew deep down, after what she had told him last week, that she already belonged to him, but he knew he had to beat her challenge before she found out who he really was.

Sitting up, he leaned toward her, pulling the footstool close to the sofa and looking her in the eye."Above all Sarah, before this goes any further, I need you to trust me. Trust that I will not harm you. Can you do that?"

Sarah swallowed heavily, her hands fidgeting slightly in her lap. She wanted to trust him, her entire being begged her to do so, yet deep inside was this nagging fear that he was not as he seemed. Despite this doubt, she nodded. "Yes. I will."

He surveyed her carefully. She kept her eyes focused on his face, showing that she had learned her lesson about looking at him. Surprisingly, her eyes were clear, showing her determination. He smiled inwardly seeing the spark inside her begin to burn again – she would not easily be broken, and that pleased him. Before the night was through, he would stake his rightful claim to her, and  _that_  knowledge pleased him more.

Standing Jareth picked up the leash and bid her to rise. Without a word he led her back down the stairs, toward the main play spaces. Around them, winning bidders were enjoying their 'purchases', as others watched. As she followed him, something tugged at the edges of her mind. There was something so familiar about him, but she couldn't put her finger on why.

He stopped in a corner play space before releasing her, motioning for her to sit. The chair he indicated was unlike anything she had ever seen. At first glance, it looked like an electric chair, heavy wood with a straight back and sturdy arms. The primary difference between this chair and a dining chair was the fact that the seat was shorter, with two angular pieces branching off.

Sarah sat on the seat, feeling awkward until Siobhan drifted into the space. The masked man nodded toward her and she came forward, settling Sarah further onto the chair with a gentle hand, before placing one leg on each of the angled parts. Neither the masked man nor Siobhan said a word as they each leaned in and secured her to the chair.

She had been bound in many ways before, but for some reason this chair and the fact that neither of them spoke to her, made her nervous. Sarah tried hard to control her breathing and was failing. She began to breathe faster, shutting her eyes tight as she fought the panic back down, knowing that if she didn't regain control quickly, she would hyperventilate and risk passing out. When she began to gulp air, gasping for breath, she felt firm hands on her knees.

"Look at me, Sarah," he said, his soft voice washing over her like a caress. "Come on, open your eyes."

Still gasping, she forced herself to open her eyes to see him squatting low between her outstretched knees so his eyes were level with hers.

"Sarah," he repeated, noting the fear that had crept back into her eyes. "I am not Derrick. I am not here to hurt you like he did. Are you listening?"

Still panting, Sarah nodded, his voice oddly reassuring given her current position.

Jareth looked at her, concern etching his features. If this was to work, he needed her to relax. Gently his fingers caressed her face as he pressed his forehead to hers, murmuring softly. "I promise you, with all that I am, you are always safe with me. Now, I want you to close your eyes."

With a small hiccup, she did as he instructed, leaning against the back of the chair.

"Sarah, I want you to breathe in slowly, counting to 6, then breathe out counting to 6." Jareth continued speaking to her, softly and evenly. "I want you to tense every muscle in your body, Sarah. Hold it…hold it. Now release them, let everything that is worrying you go with the tension. I want you to focus only on my voice."

He smiled as she obeyed, seeing her body begin to relax into the chair. Standing again, he moved behind the chair, never taking his hand from her body, wanting her to feel that he had not left her. Flicking a lever on the back of the chair, it began to rise until Sarah's head was the same height as his. Pressing his lips close to her ear he whispered, "We're going to start now, Sarah. All you have to do is be honest, brutally honest. The questions won't always be pleasant, but you have to trust that there is a reason for all of them. Do you understand?"

She nodded, small teeth nibbling at her lip until she felt his lips brush against her ear, making her gasp. Hearing her respond to his touch, he knew she was ready, in the same quiet voice he had been speaking to her in, he began. "Why did you seek out pain?" he asked, gentle fingers continuing to caress her neck, dancing over the sensitive skin.

"Because I wanted to atone for a wrong. Pain seemed a way to wash it away."

"You said you wanted to atone, Sarah. Tell me why."

Sarah frowned at the question, fighting as much against the bindings holding her to the chair as she was with her inner self. She had never told anyone the whole truth and now she had committed herself to tell nothing less than the honest truth. "I hurt someone terribly," was her simple reply -- simple, but truthful.

"Be specific," Jareth insisted firmly. "How did you hurt him."

"He offered me everything and I rejected the offer," she whispered, her voice tinged with sadness. "I rejected him. But I didn't understand it at the time."

"When you dream of him…and I know you do, what do you see?"

With a soft whimper, she shook her head, not wanting to share her treasured dream.

"Don't defy me, Sarah," he hissed. "Tell me what you see"

She didn't even pause to register how this man was channeling the voice that had haunted her dreams since she was 15, as the voice forced her completely into her dream.

"I'm in a ballroom. A fairy tale princess, in white, looking for someone – for him. But I don't belong here. The other people….they….frighten me," she whispered, fighting against the memory.

Leaning close to her ear, his hand firmly caressing her thigh, he murmured, "Don't run from the feeling, Sarah. Claim it…be frightened. Feel everything."

With a soft sob, Sarah gasped. "I have to find him, he'll protect me."

"What do you need protecting from, Sarah?"

"The other people. It pours from them like a disease."

"What is it, Sarah? he demanded, his voice raising with the intensity of the emotion that emanated from her. Her fear was palpable, hanging over her like a pall.

"Desire," she moaned. "Lust. Oh God…I shouldn't be here. I'm too young to feel like this."

"Don't run from it, Sarah. You have to accept it. What did it feel like?" he insisted, forcing her to finally experience what her 15 year-old self couldn't cope with.

"Warmth, deep inside me," she whispered as if ashamed. Jareth responded, pressing his left hand hard against her abdomen, the warmth of his hand making her tremble, incorporating it into her dream state. "I ache. Why does it ache?" she whimpered, squirming against his hand and the chair.

"What do you need, Sarah?"

"I don't know…I don't know. I'm too young."

"No!" he hissed. "Name it, Sarah. You have to accept it."

"Him. I need him!" she moaned softly, shuddering against the chair.

"So find him, Sarah."

"I did. It was heaven in his arms. But I ran," she sniffed, struggling once more against the bonds.

"So change the past. What do you want to happen?"

"I want him to kiss me," Sarah gasped, her body throbbing as she finally began to accept that which she had denied when she was fifteen.

Upon her admission, Jareth leaned in, forcefully capturing her lips with his. Feeling her body react, her pressed her further, his tongue teasing along her lips before they parted, allowing him in. She moaned against him, his tongue thrusting along hers, as if tasting the emotions that seeped from her. With a low groan, he broke the kiss, his voice hoarse with his own need, as he demanded, "What else, Sarah?"

He watched her closely, marveling as the fear left her face, replaced with raw need.

"His touch. Oh please...his touch burns me, but…I need it," she moaned, arching her back from the chair to press her body toward the hand on her stomach.

Sliding his hand along her thigh, Jareth grazed gloved fingertips upward, teasing the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh. He paused at the crest of her leg, fingers deftly massaging the area, allowing the sensation to build in her. Sensing her acceptance of the need, he pressed forward, fingers teasing along the silken folds, watching her quiver under his touch. Slipping upward, his thumb grazed the hidden pearl, licking his lips as she jumped, her hips responding to the touch by seeking his hand.

He leaned in, nipping at her lip with his teeth, the hand entwined in her hair gripping tighter, eliciting a catlike mewl from her in response. Fighting against his own desire, Jareth growled against her lips, his tongue again demanding entry and finding no resistance. Through it all, his fingers never ceased their intimate caress, drawing the feeling into her very core as she writhed in the bonds of the chair. Breaking from her lips, he looked at her, watching her pull against the bonds as she sought his touch and lips. Keeping his fingers pressed firmly against her sensitive bud, he slid the mask from his face with his other hand.

"What do you want from him, Sarah? Name it," Jareth whispered in her ear, his teeth sharply grazing her neck, making her moan.

"His forgiveness…I'm so sorry. I didn't understand…I didn't know," she whined, her body continuing to seek his touch, finding her own rhythm against his knowing fingers.

"Ask for it," he snarled, "beg for it, Sarah."

He felt her body tense, the muscles in her thighs fairly humming with the intensity of the emotion as it coiled inside her waiting for the trigger to release it all. Jareth couldn't take his eyes off her face, as he drove her closer to the truth and the ultimate release of all the pain, sadness and regret she had been carrying all this time. So beautiful in her vulnerability, he pressed his fingers harder against the tender bud, stroking it.

"Forgive, please forgive me…" she sobbed, thrashing against the chair, pinned by his body and the ropes that held her, but feeling nothing but the burning ache inside her that was threatening to consume her.

"Who?" he demanded sharply, his gloved hand rocking along with her frantic rhythm.

"Jareth! Jareth…forgive me…I'm sorry," Sarah moaned as her whole body gave in to the sensation, tears streaming down her cheeks as she gave herself up to the truth.

"I already did, Love…" he purred, staring at her face as she surrendered herself to the feelings.

With a sharp gasp, her eyes flew open, seeing the face of the man who had haunted her sleeping and waking dreams for the last six years. The sight of him and the knowledge that he was the one driving her pleasure, forced her over the edge. She screamed his name in her release, her body succumbing to the wave of emotion and pleasure that threatened to drown her.

When she slumped into the ropes, Jareth swiftly released the bonds that held her. Pulling her from the chair and into his arms, Jareth sunk to the floor. He cradled her in his arms as she quivered and gasped, finally collapsing against his chest in silent tears. When her tears abated, Jareth scooped Sarah up and carried her toward the stairs, the crowd of the club parting before them.

***~J/S~*~J/S~*~J/S~*~J/S~*~J/S~**

Sarah, sighed deeply, feeling exhausted, but oh so relaxed. She must've fallen asleep before going to the club. Not looking at the time, she shrugged lazily. _'Even if I missed the auction, that dream was worth it,’_ she thought, marveling at the intensity of it.

Purring softly, she replayed the dream in her mind. Jareth had won her at the auction and beat her challenge. Considering this, her eyebrows knitted, puzzled. Jareth winning the challenge was not remotely possible, in order for that to happen she would have to give him complete control of her and she would never let that happen willingly. No matter how her body might react to him and the sorrow she felt in hurting him all those years ago, she couldn't see herself trusting him in that way…could she?

Sleepily she stretched, the sound of soft talking nearby, distracting her. _'Did I leave the TV on when I fell asleep,'_ she wondered. Rolling over she startled, feeling her body pressed against something firm. Warily cracking one eye she saw that she was pressed against padded leather – a couch that was clearly not her faded, hand-me-down couch from Karen. _'Where the hell am I,’_ she fretted, frantically trying to remember what had happened. As the fog in her brain lifted, the memory became clear, it was him, it was…

"Jareth," she whispered in disbelief.

Hearing his name, Jareth turned from the corner where he was discussing the situation with Siobhan. "I'm here, Sarah," he replied, his voice edged with concern. The moment he had picked her up downstairs, she had fainted. For the last hour he had sat watch over her in the upstairs salon. He had known she would likely be shocked, but fainted had not been a reaction that he had consider.

His clipped accent sent a shiver down Sarah's spine – pleasure or fear she wasn't sure which, and she wasn't game to find out.

Sitting bolt upright, her emerald eyes wide in shock, she squeaked, "You!" Kicking her legs, she pushed against the couch, launching herself over the arm and onto the floor. Without hesitation, she scrabbled to her feet and ran for the door, thankful it was open as she threw herself down the hallway and pounded down the stairs, part of her surprised that she could run as well as she was in the heeled boots she was wearing.

Stunned, Jareth and Siobhan watched Sarah fling herself from the couch and out the door. Their puzzled hesitation giving her a head start as she fled.

"Find her," Jareth hissed at Siobhan, before bolting for the door, his long stride helping him reach the first floor quickly.

Once downstairs he cursed darkly -- the crowd had grown significantly while they had been secluded and he couldn't see her through the mass of bodies, shifting and writhing in the dim light of the club. _‘Damn her. Why the hell is she running from from me again,’_ he growled inwardly as he pushed his way into the room, scanning the crowd. He knew he needed to find her before she left the club. He had to explain things to her. How this girl could be both enchanting and blindingly irritating was beyond him. He would have to put an end to that, and soon.

Seeing a flash of white in the crowd he took off, a subtle flick of his wrist encouraging people to move out of his way. Using magic seemed to be cheating, but he was not going to let her get away this time.

Jareth saw her making a break for the exit, dodging several people who attempted to speak with her. Damn, he wouldn't be able to get there in time.

Gasping for air, Sarah saw that she was nearly at the door. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she was determined to escape him. With a yelped apology she dodged another club member, peeking over her shoulder to see Jareth rapidly catching up. She whimpered, willing her legs to go faster as she bolted the last few feet toward the door. The next thing she knew, she hit something hard. With a strangled scream she looked up, having run headlong into Rastas, who wrapped her in a hug.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his usual jovial face lined with concern and an undercurrent of protectiveness.

Sarah struggled to break free of him, looking behind her as Jareth neared. "Please...," she wailed, twisting free of Rasta's hands and hurtling herself toward the door. As she reached the entry hall, her heel hit a puddle from the rain and her foot slid out from under her, her ankle making a sickening crunch as she landed. Sarah skidded toward the door, her hip taking the brunt of the fall as she screamed, "Fuck!" In an act of self-preservation, she curled into a ball, trying to protect her ankle from further damage. Her shoulders and neck slammed into the heavy steel door hard first, the impact hard enough to jar it in the frame.

Panting she shook her head to clear it, her hands coming up to grip the sides of her head as if pressing her temples would make the horrible clanging stop.

Strong hands reached down, hauling her to a standing position, making her cry out as she put weight on her ankle and her head throbbed.

"That was incredibly silly and uncalled for, Sarah," Jareth snarled, glaring at her as his irritation rose to the surface. "As for your unladylike outburst just now, we will call that 'one' and deal with it later this weekend."

"No. No, there is no weekend, there is nothing," she gasped, trying desperately to pull away from him, despite the ache in her head and ankle. "This can't be happening."

"Look at me, Sarah," he demanded. Sarah struggled, refusing to look at him. Growing impatient with her fighting him, Jareth grabbed her chin tightly in his hand, forcing her to look at him. She whimpered as he glared coldly at her. "Disobeying me is 'two', Sarah. Don't try for three. You won't like the consequences. This  _is_  happening and you  _will_  uphold the contract."

Reaching up, he plucked a length of purple silk rope from the display on the wall and roughly grabbed her wrists, before securing them behind her. As she opened her mouth to protest, his steely eyes pinned her in place, his tone icy, "Not  _one_ word until you are back upstairs. Defy me on this and the consequences will be  _most_  unpleasant. I will not warn you again."

At this, Sarah snapped her jaw shut, nodding mutely, all the while her mind raced. This was really happening and he was here. _'Oh God, help me. I did give him control,'_ she sobbed inwardly.

Jareth unceremoniously picked her up. Tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her bodily back through the club. Seeing the look of concern Rastas' face as they passed him, she broke down and cried for the second time that night.

When they reached the upstairs lounge, he tossed her on the couch, growling one word, "Stay." Jareth turned to Max, who had followed them into the room. "Ice, please, and bring supper to us here. Brandy as well. Then ask your Mistress to join us at her earliest opportunity."

With a silent tilt of his head, Max left the room. It was all Sarah could do not to whimper, as she found herself alone with the Goblin King.

Jareth ran a gloved hand through his hair as he paused, working to control his frustration and irritation. This was not working out the way he had hoped, but he was not going to let that stop him. She needed him and deep down she knew it – she’d admitted her need earlier in the evening, he just had to get her to accept that she was getting her chance and to stop fighting herself…and him.

Drawing the footstool near the couch, he looked at her. Even panting, with her hair in disarray, she was stunning. Lifting her partially, he untied her hands, his fingers gently rubbing the indentations left by the rope. Satisfied that her hands were fine, he turned his attention to her ankle. Ever so gently he lifted her foot into his lap, removing the boot as she moaned from the pain, her eyes shut tight.

"Shhh. Let me look at it," he murmured quietly. Delicately his fingers moved over her ankle, pressing lightly as he examined the damage. "You are remarkably lucky that you didn't do any real harm." She sniffed in reply, flinching when his fingers ran over a tender spot. "It will be sore tomorrow and will likely bruise, but it will heal quickly enough.” Sitting back on the stool, Jareth surveyed her, his mismatched eyes glinting sharply in the lamplight. "However, this running from me business is getting quite tiresome, Sarah. I had thought we were past that by now."

"Well you thought wrong, didn't you," Sarah retorted angrily.

Lips pursed, Jareth glared sternly at her. "Sarah. I will overlook your disrespect this once, but from here on, you will address me with respect or the consequences I mentioned earlier, will look like a picnic compared to what will happen. Am I making myself clear?"

Frowning, she felt a wave of fear wash over her, quelling it by snapping at him, "Abundantly."

 _‘How could this night get any worse,’_ she wondered.

Max returned pushing a cart laden with plates, an ice bucket and a brandy decanter. Without speaking to them, he poured a glass of brandy, offering it to Jareth who accepted the crystal glass, dismissing Max with a brief nod. Siobhan returned shortly after, settling herself in a leather wingback chair, eying Sarah with dismay.

Without acknowledging Siobhan, Jareth rose and began to pace the room, idly sipping his drink with the air of one who was deep in thought. Nodding thoughtfully as if making a decision, he addressed Sarah, "When was the last time you ate?"

Sarah was surprised at the question, having expected that he would yell at her, rage at her or even hit her, not ask about whether she had eaten. Sadly, being the end of the pay period, money was tight and she hadn't had anything more than instant coffee and ramen noodles for the last few days – the last cup of coffee at 9am that morning.

"Um…I never eat before coming to the club, otherwise I feel sick," she replied, watching him carefully as he moved.

Jareth frowned at her, fighting the irritation that threatened to return. "While that is a wise decision, you failed to answer my question, which is technically being disobedient. Do not make me repeat myself, Sarah."

Sarah's stomach gave a loud growl at that moment, her face burning hot as she blushed profusely. "Does that answer your question?" she asked.

With a low chuckle Jareth replied, "While it tells me much, it doesn't answer the question. Now obey me and answer."

"The last time I actually ate anything was Wednesday evening, I had some ramen noodles and tinned tuna. Since then I've had several cups of coffee and some tea. Happy?" she snapped. Seeing the cold look he gave her and hearing Siobhan's gasp, her eyes flew wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth.

"No, actually that does not please me in any way. I prefer that my possessions are taken care of. As to your lack of impulse control, we will count that as three and begin dealing with that little issue tomorrow."

"I am not your  _possession_ ," Sarah hissed, her eyes flashing with anger. "I do not belong to you, now or ever."

"Ah, my precious thing, that is where you are mistaken," Jareth drawled silkily. "We have a contract, or have you forgotten already?"

"It doesn't mean anything. There is not a thing stopping me from walking out that door. The worst that can happen is that the club has to return your money," Sarah retorted, hands balling into fists at her side.

Siobhan shook her head sadly, listening to the exchange. "Actually Sarah, while you can are always free to leave, if you do not honor the contract, you will not be allowed back to the club again."

Sarah's felt tears sting her eyes, the thought of losing her friends here causing her chest to ache. Without the support of Siobhan and Rastas over the last year, she didn't know where she would be. Sniffing, she raised her head defiantly, deciding she could live without the club if she had to. "Fine. The contract isn't worth the paper it is written on. No court in the land would uphold the terms written there. It isn't binding," she declared, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.

With a wicked grin, Jareth faced Sarah. The look in his eyes making her tremble, her mind screaming in panic as her breath caught in her throat.

"While it may not be binding in your land, it  _would_  be considered a binding contract in  _mine_ ," he sneered, chuckling as Sarah blanched. "You have a choice, pet…you can choose to honor the contract willingly in your land, or honor it unwillingly in mine. Either way, you  _will_ honor the contract. And let me tell you, in my land, failure to honor a contract extends the terms of the contract."

As if listening to someone else speaking from a long distance away, Sarah heard her voice croak out, "How long."

"Indefinitely," came the grim reply.

"That isn't fair. Nothing about it is fair," Sarah said, a frustrated sigh escaping her pursed lips as she frowned. "And before you mock me," she continued, looking pointedly at Jareth, "Let me point out that had I known I was negotiating this contract with  _you_  I wouldn't have agreed to any of this. Essentially I was lied to," Sarah protested, "And betrayed," she said, looking at Siobhan sadly.

Jareth frowned, his eyes dark with barely contained anger. "I never lie," he hissed, "And you had best remember that or the next 72 hours will be very unpleasant for you."

"But the contract was negotiated under false pretenses," Sarah persisted. "If that isn't a lie, I'm not sure what you would call it? Surely even  _your_  courts, if you could call them that, wouldn't uphold a contract negotiated in such a way?"

Pausing Jareth considered this. It was true that she was not fully aware of the details when negotiating the contract, but that hardly negated the resulting agreement.

Standing behind Siobhan's chair, he looked over at Sarah, her verdant eyes shining with defiance, underscored by fear. He couldn't understand why she was suddenly afraid again, when by her own admission, she wanted his forgiveness – and him.

Sarah cringed as he looked at her, her mind racing as she considered her options – neither of which seemed like much of an option at the moment. Closing her eyes she shook her head muttering to herself. _'I should never have gotten out of bed today.’_ Without looking at either of them she asked, "Could I see the contract?"

Silently Siobhan handed her the contract, eyes soft with motherly concern as she surveyed Sarah's reaction.

Frowning, Sarah re-read the conditions and shook her head, muttering darkly as she realized she had left a loophole that Jareth was sure to take advantage of. _‘You bloody idiot. Complete and utter twit,’_ she chastised herself. Afraid to look up, she whispered, "And when it says that I remain yours until Monday, that means…?"

"Precisely what it says pet. Where I am, you will be required to be for the next three days.”

Jareth's eyes narrowed as he watched her. Since her last outburst, she had gone quiet, almost calm. He was unsure whether to expect another outburst, or if she was finally coming to terms with what was happening.

Sarah buried her head in her hands with a moan. She was his for the next three days, but if he chose to make her return with him to the Underground, she could be there for any number of years. Since the time flow was faster there, effectively three days could become three decades. And there was no way out.

"Please, just don’t make me go back there. I can't go back to the Underground."

Jareth's eyebrows knitted in surprise. This was not the revelation he had been expecting. Leaning toward her, he gently caressed her cheek, pleased when she didn't flinch from the touch. "Is that what you were worried about, Sarah? Is that why you ran from me?" he asked quietly, still wondering why that scared her so. "You are not a wished away child, nor are you a wisher. Therefore, I cannot force you to return to the Underground. The only way I will ever take you back there, will be with your willing consent."

Sarah lifted her head, troubled eyes peering at him through a veil of chocolate tresses. If he was not going to return her to the Underground, she wondered what he wanted with her. While she has dreamed of gaining his forgiveness and losing herself to him, the sheer power of his presence overwhelmed her – effectively short circuiting her ability to reason. Raising her head fully, Sarah met his gaze, shocked by her own resolve.

Jareth smiled as her face calmed, the fear and defiance being replaced with acceptance. He looked at her, pale eyes seeming to peer into her heart. "Sarah, you must believe me when I tell you that you only need fear me if you disobey me. I am not here to harm you, emotionally or physically, I care too deeply for you to do that," Jareth said softly, pleased to see the tension in her face fading. "But in order for this to work, you must trust me Sarah."

With a slow sigh, as if expelling all of the fear from inside her, Sarah nodded.

Jareth smiled fully, as he settled upon the footstool near her. Taking a napkin from the cart Max had brought, he filled it with ice, before wrapping it securely around her twisted ankle, the shock of the cold and pain of the ankle making her wince. Flicking his wrist slightly, he produced a crystal, then gently pressed it against her ankle, where it seemed to dissolve into the skin.

"This won't heal it, but it should lessen the pain."

Retrieving a plate from the cart, he removed the lid, the smell of roast lamb and potatoes making Sarah’s mouth water. Her stomach gave a loud growl, which seemed overly loud in the quiet of the room. Blushing furiously, she looked at the floor.

She was thankful that he pretended not to notice, rather he merely cut a piece of the lamb, spearing it on the fork, before holding it to her lips. "Open."

Looking puzzled, Sarah opened her mouth, spluttering softly when Jareth thrust the bite of lamb between her lips and held the fork there until she bit down. She ate the bite, watching him with a hint of amusement as he cut another bite and held it out for her, repeating the process.

"I can…feed…myself… you know," she managed to say between bites.

Arching an eyebrow, Jareth looked at her, his usually guarded eyes dancing. "I realize that you are perfectly capable of feeding yourself, although your table manners leave something to be desired. No talking with your mouth full, Sarah."

Sarah tried hard not to laugh, "Then why are you feeding me?"

He paused. "Sarah, you have been involved with the club for a while now. What is the role of a submissive or slave?"

She was confused when he changed the subject and struggled to articulate an answer. "Both exist to please their dominant."

"And why do they want to please?" he continued thoughtfully, eating a bite of the roast.

Sarah considered this carefully. Since she didn't identify herself as a member of either group, she had never thought about their motivations before.

"Usually because they care about the person they serve," she posited.

"Exactly. However, this caring does not just flow one way, both parties give and take, do they not?"

"Yes, I suppose they do," Sarah nodded, confused as to where this was leading.

"At the moment, feeding you, pleases me," he said, presenting her with another bite, smiling gently as she took it. "Some things you do not need to question, precious. Not everything has an ulterior motive. You have to trust that. You have to trust me."

Sarah considered what he had said, frowning slightly, as she chewed. "Does that mean punishing others pleases you?" she asked quietly, trying to grasp how that could be possible.

Jareth laid the fork down and silently gazed at her, seeing in her eyes the same innocence she had exhibited in the ballroom those many years ago. Although she had grown and experienced many things, she was still, in many ways innocent, and there was so much he could teach her if she would only let him.

"No pet. More specifically, punishing  _you_  will never bring me pleasure," he replied, his tone gentle and soothing. "Rather, it is something that must on occasion be done to correct a negative behavior, so that you might be even more pleasing. Do you understand?"

Sarah nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I think so. So people like Derrick…"

"Inflict pain, in the guise of punishment because it pleases them, even if it accomplishes nothing other than harming another," he stated plainly.

The two ate silently for some time, Jareth feeding both of them at his whim, even offering Sarah sips of his brandy.

When the plates had been cleaned of food, Jareth moved from the footstool to the chair, settling his feet upon the stool he had just vacated. Leaning comfortably into the chair, he stretched, shutting his eyes contentedly as he finished the last of the brandy. With a deep sigh, he opened his eyes and tilted his head, contemplating the young woman before him. She was more relaxed now and the annoying fear that had filled her eyes earlier was gone, in fact, she seemed almost content at the moment.

"Now that you have eaten, I believe it is time to discuss the grounds of your little contractual obligation to me," Jareth murmured. "Agreed?"

Sarah nodded silently, feeling her breath catch in her chest as she waited to hear what he had in mind. Since she had willingly consented to this, he could ask any number of things and she was now honor-bound to obey him. She prayed that he wouldn't abuse that power – but this was the Goblin King, a power Fae. She had learned her lesson the first time where he was concerned, never take anything for granted.

"As you are the submissive in this contract, I have a few rules I expect you to abide by. Firstly, I expect you to obey me. You may question me within reason, but you must understand that there is always a reason for my orders, whether you grasp what that may be or not. Constantly questioning things will make the weekend rather unpleasant, the best option is merely to obey. Disobedience will result in punishment." Jareth watched her, pleased when she showed no further hint of fear or defiance, her eyes placid pools as she nodded, acknowledging what he was saying. "Secondly, honesty. No matter how difficult the question might be, if I ask you something, I expect an honest answer. I consider lying to be a most serious offense and it will be dealt with accordingly. Thirdly, I expect you to act like a lady in all ways and be mindful of your manners. I don't want to hear anymore of the language I heard from you earlier this evening. I am quite sure you were raised better than that. Am I understood?"

Sarah nodded, blushing.

"Fourth, I expect you to show me respect - not for my official position as king, but as the person to whom you belong for the time being. Since I am not your king and I abhor most other titles, you may address me simply as Jareth, something that few people have ever been allowed to do," he added, "and live to tell the tale," he smiled, teasing her. "Lastly, you have to trust that everything I do or request has a purpose. I will not hurt you Sarah."

Sarah frowned slightly, taking in what he said. Swallowing the lump that had built up in her throat, she hoped her voice wouldn't fail her but she had to know.

"Jareth, since you won the challenge, you won the right to…" she faltered, struggling to finish the statement, she hung her head and shut her eyes, the shame was too great.

"Yes. I was wondering when you would ask about that," he replied, his voice dropping softly, as his eyes betrayed the depth of feeling he had for her. "Sarah, hear me when I say this, I will not force myself on you, no matter what the original challenge and prize were. While many Fae would maintain that the contract allows that, I will not jeopardize what trust you have in me by forcing you in that way. Although, by your own contract and challenge, I have the right to claim you in every way, I will only claim that prize if you ask it of me."

Sarah's eyes widened as she looked at him, unprepared for his answer.

"That said, there are many other things that could be done that would not contravene my personal ethics on the matter, and would fall within the bounds of the challenge and contract," he said, his mischievous grin hinting at wicked promises of things to come.

Blushing deeply, Sarah nodded. That smile suggested so many things, things which made her tremble at the mere thought.

Removing the ice from Sarah's ankle, Jareth stood, helping her up. "It is time we left. I have a place in the city, where we will spend the remainder of the weekend."

"Can we go by my apartment," she asked, wincing when her twisted ankle touched the floor.

"There is no need, precious," he replied, "I will see to it you have everything you need."

Shaking her head she argued, "You don't understand. I have to go by my place to feed my cat. He can't be without food for the weekend."

Jareth looked at her, somewhat exasperated, as he wanted to be alone with her, and stopping by her apartment would take time he would rather spend doing other things.

"I'll send someone over to feed the cat tomorrow."

Placing a hand on his arm she pleaded with him, her touch on his arm giving him pause.

"Please don't send someone else, they might hurt him! He is a bit on the vicious side, in fact he is downright feral most of the time, even to me," she begged.

Frowning, Jareth nodded, inwardly touched by her loyalty, yet again. "Fine, does this ferocious feline have a name?"

"GK," Sarah replied, blushing, as she limped to the door on his arm.

"You are doing it again, Sarah. Answer the question,” Jareth replied, the warning clear in his tone. “That is a nickname, what is the cat's name?"

Sarah's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of crimson as she ducked her head. Groaning, she pleaded, "Please don't make me tell you. It is humiliating enough."

With an evil smirk, Jareth looked at her, "In that case pet, I really must insist. The full name. Now please, or there will be consequences."

Grumbling under her breath, Sarah muttered, "The full name on his pedigree certificate is 'His Nibs, the Goblin King, Jareth'."

Jareth couldn't help but chuckle. She had actually named her cat after him. The irony was too funny. "And you call him GK for short?"

"Well no, GK is the polite version. When he's being civil I call him 'His Nibs', when he's being a prat he usually gets called 'you arrogant bast…'" she paused remembering the rule about being ladylike, "well…um…you get the idea," she blushed.

Fixing her with a steely glare, Jareth shook his head.

"But you asked," Sarah protested with a shrug. "And by your own rules I was honor bound to answer honestly." Laughing, she looked up at him, an impish smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "You know, he reminds me of you in other ways."

"Oh?" came the sardonic reply.

"Yes. Sometimes when he gets loose, he steals stray kittens and brings them home. He's also got a thing for leather pants and boots."

With a knowing smirk, Jareth arched an eyebrow. "That's four, Sarah.

 

 

 


End file.
